


Shells

by sibley (ferns)



Category: Doom Patrol (TV)
Genre: Coming Out, Gen, Nonbinary Character, Trans Female Character, Trans Male Character, this is literally just Trans People!: the fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-20
Updated: 2019-05-20
Packaged: 2020-03-08 16:55:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18898783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ferns/pseuds/sibley
Summary: “We need to talk,” Larry finally says, squeezing his knees tightly. Maybe he shouldn’t actually have eaten anything, because now he feels like he might be about to throw up.Rita freezes. Half of her face immediately slips downward. He can’t know, can he? Oh, please let him just be saying that he’s leaving, or that he’s the one who broke her favorite mirror, or that he spilled something on that blue carpet that she just cleaned. She manages to get herself together enough to try to hold her face back together. And fail, since her arm starts dripping down, but she’strying. “About what?”





	Shells

**Author's Note:**

> "doom patrol....trans," i say into the mic.
> 
> the crowd boos. i begin to walk off in shame, when a voice speaks and commands silence from the room. 
> 
> "they're right," the voice says. i look for the owner of the voice. there in the third row she stands: rachel pollack herself.
> 
> [ **CW:** this fic contains references to transphobia & homophobia, internalized transphobia & homophobia, one brief & nongraphic implication of sexual assault, unintentional misgendering, references to sexual situations, & the use of somewhat dated trans terminology.]

At some point, she’s really going to have to tell Larry.

If they’re really going to be living together long-term like this, then Rita will have to tell him. She doesn’t know if she’s prepared to do that. The list of people who capital-K Know is a short one, just how she likes it. Not even _Niles_ knows, and he seems to know practically everything about her.

But even though he lives here too, and even though he talks to her every day and tries to get her to open up about her “powers” or “metagene” or whatever it is he’s calling her curse this week, it’s _different_ with Larry. They’re actually coexisting with one another. They’re actually sort of becoming friends. And it’s _nice_ to have a friend again, even if it’s a friend you were forced into contact with under less than ideal circumstances. Especially since it had just been her and Niles and an empty mansion for so long…

So she’s going to have to tell him. Even if it means that he never wants to see her again. Even if it means he won’t be able to stand being _near_ her again. She’ll be fine, of course. A lot of people have had that reaction. _Steve_ had that reaction, though it was mostly due to… other factors. But it would be better for her to tell him on her own terms than for him to find out accidentally, right?

It’ll have to be soon. She’s already accepted that she’s not going to be able to leave Niles’ house. Probably not ever. Her curse is still barely under control even when she’s awake, and when she’s asleep she loses control altogether. And even if Larry hasn’t realized it yet, he probably won’t ever be able to leave either. She’ll _have_ to tell him soon.

Now she just needs to figure out a way to do it.

* * *

At some point, he’s really going to have to tell Rita.

If they’re really going to be living together long-term like this, then Larry will have to tell her. He doesn’t know if he’s prepared to do that. The list of people who capital-K know is a short one, just how he likes it. Not even _Dr. Caulder_ knows, and he seems to know practically everything about him.

But even though he lives here too, and even though he talks to him every day and tries to get him to open up about his “powers” or “connection with the negative spirit” or whatever it is he’s calling his curse this week, it’s _different_ with Rita. They’re actually coexisting with one another. They’re actually sort of becoming friends. And it’s _nice_ to have a friend again, even if it’s a friend you were forced into contact with under less than ideal circumstances. Especially since Rita seems to know a bit more about what she’s doing…

So he’s going to have to tell her. Even if it means she never wants to see him again. Even if it means she won’t be able to stand being _near_ him again. He doesn’t know if he’ll be able to handle that. She’s the first real friend he’s had in years. But it would be better for him to tell her on his own terms than for her to find out accidentally, right?

It’ll have to be soon. One day he’s going to get out of here, he’ll figure out a way to get that _thing_ inside of him out for good and he’ll be _free,_ but it probably won’t be for awhile. He doesn’t have any control over it whatsoever. It’s got a mind of its own. But Dr. Caulder says that the manor will always be there if he needs a safe place to stay, and the manor means Rita. He’ll _have_ to tell her soon.

Now he just needs to figure out a way to do it.

* * *

Rita focuses on chopping the carrots Larry gave her and doesn’t look over her shoulder when she hears him messing around with the stove. It’ll have to be today. If she doesn’t tell him today, she never will.

She’ll do it over dinner. Larry always seems calmer after he’s done cooking, and he says he likes making soups because they’re good and they last for awhile so he’ll probably be more willing to hear her out.

She does wonder… Larry was a big shot space pilot, or something like that. She doesn’t know much about what that entails, but it’s extremely likely he’ll have never met _anyone_ like her before. If he asks, how will she explain it to him?

Larry needlessly fiddles with the stove and counts his celery stalks to avoid looking at where Rita is standing with her back to him. It’ll have to be today. If he doesn’t tell her today, he never will.

He’ll do it over dinner. Rita always seems calmer after she’s done eating, and making soup tonight was her idea (she even offered to help him, said that it would occupy her brain and stop her from losing herself) so she’ll probably be more willing to hear him out.

He does wonder… Rita was a famous actress, even if he never really saw any of her movies in their entirety before moving to Dr. Caulder’s mansion and being forced to watch them on repeat. It’s extremely likely she’ll have never met _anyone_ like him before. If she asks, how will he explain it to her?

Rita has to help him make the matzo balls, since bandages and gloves and egg dough don’t mix. She makes them a little bigger than Larry would have, but it’s not like he’s going to actually be eating any of it except the broth since he can drink it through a straw, so she can do whatever she wants. Besides, she insists that they’re better when they’re bigger. They’re the best part of the soup.

It probably doesn’t take very long, but it feels like Rita spends an eternity studying her hands and avoiding eye contact with Larry-who she would notice was doing the exact same thing if she looked up-until the soup is finally done. She really does have no idea how she’s going to do this. During dinner? After dinner? She should have thought this through a bit more.

It probably doesn’t take very long, but it feels like Larry spends an eternity looking down at his gloved hands and avoiding eye contact with Rita-who he would notice was doing the exact same thing if he looked up-until the soup is finally done. He really does have no idea how he’s going to do this. During dinner? After dinner? He probably should’ve thought this through a bit more.

Even the quite frankly absurd amount of soup they made isn’t enough to satisfy Rita, so she ends up eating quite a bit of leftover chicken, but the several loaves of rye bread she eats with the soup fill her up quite nicely before that. She tries to think about how full she is instead of what she’s planning to say. If Larry notices that she keeps having to stop and rearrange her face out of anxiety, he doesn’t say anything.

Larry silently drinks his broth and watches Rita eat her dinner, privately wishing he could have anything other than the broth. It’s not that it’s bad, because it tastes just fine, it’s just exhausting to exist practically exclusively on liquids. He tries to think about how much that sucks instead of what he’s planning to say. If Rita notices that his chest keeps shining blueish white, she doesn’t say anything.

“We need to talk,” Larry finally says, squeezing his knees tightly. Maybe he shouldn’t actually have eaten anything, because now he feels like he might be about to throw up.

Rita freezes. Half of her face immediately slips downward. He can’t _know,_ can he? Oh, please let him just be saying that he’s leaving, or that he’s the one who broke her favorite mirror, or that he spilled something on that blue carpet that she _just_ cleaned. She manages to get herself together enough to try to hold her face back together. And fail, since her arm starts dripping down, but she’s _trying._ “About what?”

“I’ve got something I need to tell you.” He’s looking more and more uncomfortable by the second. “It’s, um-it’s kind of personal. I don’t want you to tell Dr. Caulder.”

Rita tries to calm down. Okay. Okay. He doesn’t know about her. He doesn’t know anything about her. But he _will._ She has to tell him. She has to. “I actually have something I need to talk to you about too.” Rita resists the urge to thread her fingers through her hair. She’s not supposed to that. “But you can go first.”

Larry tries to take a few deep breaths. It’s difficult. Breathing through the bandages is always difficult, and he honestly doesn’t know if he’ll ever be used to it, but it seems harder than ever now. “I’m-I mean, I’m a transsexual.”

He was expecting Rita to recoil in shock, but that does not mean it doesn’t still hurt when she _does,_ the melting down half her body suddenly growing much faster. And then, somehow, improbably, she starts laughing, covering her mouth and shaking her head to stifle her giggles.

Larry ducks his head down and awkwardly hugs himself. That… isn’t the typical reaction. Across the board, aside from literally only two people, the response that he’d gotten had been resoundingly negative.

For some reason Rita is looking more and more, well, _normal_ by the second, getting her melting under control with more ease than Larry had ever seen before.

“You had to steal my thunder, didn’t you Lawrence?” Rita sighs, which is _definitely_ not what he was expecting her to say. She definitely doesn’t mean what he thinks she means, does she? That’s too much of a coincidence. She _can’t_ mean… “And here I was worried you’d hate me for being one, too.”

That’s when Larry starts laughing too, and the weight on Rita’s shoulders feels lighter than it has in years.

* * *

Neither of them tell Niles. They know he wouldn’t understand. Of course there’s a possibility he already knows about both of them, because he’s _Niles_ and he’s _awfully_ invasive at times, but he acts the same to them and he _wouldn’t_ if he knew, so he can’t know. He comments on how he’s happy that their relationship seems to have improved and how he’s glad they’ve decided to actually befriend each other, but despite his pushing on what the inciting incident was they don’t tell him why some of the invisible barriers between them have been lifted.

They don’t tell Jane or the others, either. She doesn’t spend much time at the mansion after Niles brings her there anyway. Rita tries to force herself to make Jane and by extension the others feel welcome, but the fact of the matter is that the only ones she actually gets along with are Penny and _sometimes_ Babydoll. Jane doesn’t like her and Hammerhead seems to outright hate her and the less said about Scarlet the better.

Larry has a bit more luck with them. The Hangman’s Beautiful Daughter _loves_ his flowers, and that fuzzy one, what’s her name, Rain Brain, likes to watch him mess around with his succulents. But he doesn’t consider himself actually friends with any of them. Not like he is with Rita, anyway.

And then, when Cliff shows up, he barely spends any time with either of them before he falls headfirst into an almost unending depressive spiral. It was Larry’s idea to get him toy cars and help him set up a landscape. He thought it would help him feel better, and Rita’s pretty sure Larry was right about that, but even so it’s not like Cliff leaves his room much.

Besides, her and Larry had a talk when Cliff first moved in, when Niles was still building his body and occasionally required their assistance for it. Larry had said that Cliff was a daredevil or a racecar driver or something, which meant that he was the kind of man Larry was very familiar with. The kind of man who reacted to things-to _people_ like them badly. Violently. It wouldn’t be good if he found out, even if he turned out to be more friendly than he seemed on the news. Even though they could protect each other, it still wouldn’t be safe to tell him.

So they don’t tell anyone, even though they could consider all of them their friends. They just… exist with the knowledge of themselves and each other. It’s kind of nice. The first time they met each other they hadn’t exactly been best friends right off the bat. But now neither of them can imagine living a life _without_ each other. Maybe that’s not healthy. But aside from Niles, they’re the only people each other have had for so long that it feels just plain _wrong_ not to be around each other.

And then it all goes to hell, and they’re too busy trying to figure out how to make everything _not_ go to hell to tell anyone. Not that they’d tell the new kid. Cyborg. Vic, he says they can call him Vic. He’s good at being a hero, but he’s not their _friend._ He’s not one of them.

But then one day, the one right after the whole Decreator/Recreator business, Jane-it’s definitely Jane, she’s not scowling but she isn’t smiling either and she’s not holding a book of crossword puzzles and she isn’t covered in paint or immaterial-walks in wearing a shirt with an unfamiliar pattern on it. Yellow and purple and white and grey.

“I like your shirt,” Vic says. He’s eating a turkey sandwich for breakfast, because apparently that’s what heroes do. Rita’s eating leftover chicken again (chicken is Larry’s default when he doesn’t know what else to make), because apparently that’s what she does. “Where’d you get it?”

Jane eyes him for a second before deciding that he’s actually genuine in both his compliment and his question. Or maybe Jane was just too tired to argue that morning. That was also a strong possibility. “Flit went to pride a few years ago. In Chicago, I think. Ae got it for us.”

Vic nods and goes back to his sandwich. None of the rest of them think much of it, except maybe Cliff, who’s doing the closest approximation of squinting at Jane’s shirt that he can until Hammerhead fronts just to scowl at him and flip him off and demand to know if he’s got a problem with them, because if he does they’ll put her fist through his chest.

They don’t bring up the shirt again, and Jane changes out of it later. Cliff hopes he isn’t the reason why, but assumes he probably is.

* * *

Rita can hear Cliff shouting about _something_ from all the way upstairs and across the mansion. Which isn’t that unusual. He doesn’t seem to have much of a concept of “volume control” in general, and he’s… passionate about certain things. That’s probably the most polite way to put it. But the whole place just shook, so she should probably go see what the hell that’s all about.

By the time she _does_ get close enough to actually hear what he’s saying, though, she’s kind of glad she didn’t just yell at him to shut up through the floor like she usually did whenever he got like this.

“-angry!” He yells. “Can’t live like this!” He quiets a little and Rita creeps closer to the doorway. Wheelchairs you don’t know how to use aren’t very stealthy, but Cliff, Jane, and Vic are too wrapped up in whatever’s going on to notice. “Why do I wanna beat the shit out of Bump so bad? Irony is Bump Weathers was probably a better dad to Clara than I would’ve been. Shit! I was already turning into my old man! Shit’s the same! Same fights, same apologies over and over, a vicious cycle… Maybe Clara’s lucky she got out! Maybe I should’ve kept pretending to be a fucking girl and gotten married to some fucking guy or some shit, maybe then I wouldn’t be fucking _stuck_ in this loop too!”

“Oh, hey, don’t say that-” Vic tries, but Cliff just keeps on going like he didn’t say anything at all.

“Maybe that’s why I can’t call Clara? Maybe I just don’t want to drag her back into this fucking cycle! Maybe I just don’t know how I’m going to explain how the fuck I’m alive, is why the fuck it was _me_ and not Kate! Not her fucking mom!” Rita hears a clatter and assumes he either sat down or fell to the floor. Either is likely. “It should’ve been her! Not me!”

Rita decides that now would be a good time to intervene, pretending she didn’t hear most of it. She’s kind of glad she did. It means that if Cliff _does_ find out, somehow, about her _or_ about Larry, he probably won’t be angry like they both thought he would be.

Later, when they’re all doing some unofficial therapy, she considers saying something. But she doesn’t. It was hard enough to tell Larry after over a year of knowing him, back before any of this ever happened. And Larry doesn’t say anything about himself, either. Rita wonders if it would be right to tell him that Cliff is safe. To tell him _why_ he’s safe. But then she considers how she’d feel if _Larry_ told _Cliff_ about her and immediately decides against it.

Still, even though he wasn’t there, Larry must understand on _some_ level that Cliff is safe, because he tells all of them about John, who Rita hasn’t heard him talk about in _years._ He only told her about him in he first place because he went into a depressive spiral and then had a meltdown next to her on the couch about everything. And then Cliff hugs him, so that’s another good sign, and Rita catches Vic silently shooting him a thumbs up, and Jane nods at him a little, and Rita rubs his arm so he’ll know that she’s proud of him too.

* * *

“That flag looks familiar,” Larry says thoughtfully, squinting up at the cheerful yellow, white, grey, and purple flag illuminated by the streetlights and neon signs bright enough for it to be daylight.

 _It’s the nonbinary flag, love,_ Danny says, one of the signs in the windows of the shop next to him shifting around. The font is cute and lacy. _It’s pretty new, compared to old-timers like us. Been to many pride parades lately?_

“No. I just… Oh. _Ohh.”_ Larry suddenly realizes where he recognizes it from, and doesn’t know how he didn’t put the pieces together before. “One of my friends had it on her-” He pauses. “Um, on their? I don’t actually know. They’ve never said anything. But it was on their shirt once.”

The sign rearranges itself again. _Your friend sounds like they have excellent taste._ There’s a pause, and then a little smiley face slips into place at the end of the sentence, and Danny says _I’d love to get to meet them sometime._

“I’d like that too,” Larry says. Danny feels more welcoming than anyone or anything he’s ever met. Standing on Danny feels like coming home, like there’s a balloon expanding in his chest and making him feel all warm inside. Maybe Danny feels like that for everyone. Or maybe it’s just for people like them. “I think all my friends would really like to meet you. I hope they can one day.”

_I hope so too._

* * *

“Did you turn, ah, Grid back on?” Rita asks. She’s still wearing that outfit from the Bureau of Normalcy, and she’s still trying to get her nausea under control from being teleported to the hospital by Flit even though it was half an hour ago, but she can’t even think about any of that because Vic needs help. He needs _her,_ because right now she’s the only one he’s got.

“Yeah,” he says. His voice is shaking a little. Rita wonders if he needs a hug. “I don’t know why I turned it off in the first place. God, I’m such an _idiot.”_

“No, you’re not,” Rita insists. “You’re amazing. You’re a _genius,_ Vic. Do you think any of us could do what you do? You’re _Cyborg,_ remember?” She nudges him a little but he doesn’t respond outside of swallowing thickly. “You’re a big-city hero. You’re the only one here who knows what they’re doing.”

“I _thought_ I was,” Vic mutters. He rubs at his forehead. “But instead I just-I just let him _trick me_ like that. Like some kind of ameutur. Like I didn’t already know he could get in my head like that, and like we haven’t been fighting him for god knows how many weeks. Why didn’t I just trust my dad from the start? Sure, he’s a little overprotective, but he’s… he’s almost always supported me… it’s not like he showed up to all of my games but he was there for me after the accident, and he collaborated with some biochemists at STAR Labs to figure out how to get Grid to synthesize hormones because I had to stop taking them after-”

His shoulders stiffen and his eyes cut to her. Rita knows why. It’s one thing for Cliff to accidentally say something like that in front of a twenty-something year old superhero and Jane, who at least knows how to use the internet even if she refuses to tell Rita who “Siri” is. It’s another to say it to a woman from the fifties. He’s probably hoping she doesn’t even know what that means. But even if she’s hopeless with modern technology, Larry likes to review films, and he’s told her _some_ things.

Well. It’s not quite how she imagined doing it, but beggars can’t be choosers. “Perhaps you could ask Grid to make some for me. I could probably use the help, remoulding my body every day only does so much, you know.” Carefully, she squeezes his hand. “It’s… it’s okay, you know. I think there might be more transsexuals on our team than there are normal people.”

Vic winces at that but doesn’t let go of her hand or look away from the bed where his father is lying. At least when he speaks he doesn’t sound as close to tears as he did before. That’s hopefully a good sign. “You _are_ normal, Rita. You just melt a little sometimes. That’s okay. And-and just so you know, most people use the word ‘transgender’ now.”

“Oh.” Rita finally gives in to the urge to hug him. He doesn’t hug back, but he does lean into her, so she considers that a victory. She rubs his back a little. The metal plating is smooth and warm and it almost feels like it’s humming.

He’s a good kid. A _really_ good kid. And an even better superhero. He doesn’t deserve this. Silas is… Rita barely knew him-barely _knows_ him, he’s not _dead-_ but he did come up with a plan to get Vic out of the Bureau intact, even if it did get them tortured for a little bit. She wants to tell Vic everything will be okay. She wants everything to be okay for him. But it might not be, even though his dad should recover just fine, and that’s even scarier than anything the Bureau could do.

* * *

“Hmm.” Cliff says, accidentally stabbing the guy who is probably Flex Mentallo in the face again, which causes him to make a small strangled yelping noise. It’s very unheroic of him. “Are we _really_ sure this guy is actually Flex Mentallo?”

“First of all, just call him Flex. Saying ‘Mentallo’ every time takes way too long.” Jane waves their scissors around and ignores the Secretary’s grumbling about how she can think of twenty-two more efficient ways to do this. “And yeah, he’s gotta be, otherwise we’re gonna seem like grade-A idiots. Why?”

“‘Cause he’s got, uh, scars.” Cliff suddenly realizes that they should have put a sheet over maybe-Flex’s body, or something, because if they get all this hair on it then he’s going to be _super_ itchy. “If he has spooky muscle powers or whatever he’s supposed to be able to do then why would he have scars?”

“Because scars are fucking dope, duh.” Jane rolls her eyes, sounding an awful lot like Hammerhead for a moment, and accidentally almost cuts probably-Flex’s ear off. “I won’t let you just stand there and act like _your_ ideal body wouldn’t have some cool scars.”

Cliff tries very hard not to accidentally stab potentially-Flex again and fails. He bites down the words _I guess mine did_ and says “I don’t know, maybe,” instead. Jane pretends not to be looking at him from around the guy’s head. Cliff sighs. He should probably be grateful to Caulder that he still _can_ sigh. He is not. “We probably shouldn’t talk about him like he’s not here, right?”

“I don’t mind,” almost-definitely-Flex chirps. He’s awfully easygoing for someone who’s supposed to be a superhero _and_ for someone who they just broke out of a years-long imprisonment at a government black site. “People at the Bureau talked around me all the time.”

“Yeah, buddy, that’s not a good thing. People aren’t supposed to do that.” Jane goes back to haphazardly cutting his hair. Cliff tries to frown at them. He physically can’t, but he makes an effort anyway. That hadn’t sounded much like Jane, but he’s pretty sure no one else would have an interest in cutting the hair of someone who was potentially a has-been superhero.

It probably wouldn’t be good to bring it up, would it? He’s better off keeping that observation to himself. No need to make any of them angry, even if he can consider some of them to be his friends.

Later, while they’re loading everyone into the bus to take them to find the “Beard Hunter” or whatever the _fuck_ the name was of that guy Rita told them could find Niles for them, Penny mumbles that they all accept his apology, even Hammerhead a little bit, and that she’s sorry Jane said he wasn’t really a man. That she didn’t really mean it, especially not like that.

He knows she means the time Jane said it to him, but he takes it as an apology for that spooky one with the claws, Black Annis, and what she said too in the Underground. At least that time wasn’t Jane’s fault. Besides, it’s not like Black Annis knew, because of course she didn’t know. But it had still hurt.

At least Danny is nice. Cliff’s got no idea why Larry didn’t tell him about them before, because people aren’t supposed to keep teleporting sentient streets a secret from their friends, but they’re nice, even if he barely gets a chance to get to know them. He kinda wishes he could’ve gotten the chance to. Maybe it would’ve been much less awkward to see them climax if he’d known them for more than five minutes.

And then whatever the hell Flex is trying to do to get them into the White Space actually honest to god _works._

* * *

Cliff almost cries when he ends up in the not-very-white White Space in the body he used to have. He’ll deny it if Mr. Nobody tries to use it against him or something, but he does. Cliff never really _loved_ his body before. It was his and he hated most of it and that was it. What’s that saying? You don’t know what you’ve got until it’s gone? Yeah, that one. But is having his old life back, his old _body_ back even worth it if he’s still destroying everyone around him?

Jane knows they shouldn’t stop them. They know that they’re all safer when they have _real_ powers. But it’s scary to think about. They’re not stupid, they know the other parts aren’t monsters, except maybe for Black Annis who would probably take it as a compliment. But they’re dangerous when they have powers. Katy burns people, Hammerhead breaks them, Silvertongue can literally kill with a word… is it worth it to keep themselves safe if everyone else suffers?

Rita knows she was a bad person. She still _is_ a bad person even though she’s trying to work on not being one anymore. She knows she has a chance, maybe, to be a better person without ruining her own life. But would she really become one? Would she honestly realize that everything in her life was her own fault and try to make it better for herself and everyone around her who really truly deserved it?

Larry feels that familiar prickling sensation under his skin and the lightness in his chest and almost throws up. He doesn’t, though, which is good, because Sheryl’s already reprimanding him for swearing and they don’t need to add another crime to his list. He could stay. He could figure something out with John and free Sheryl to have the life that she deserves. But would he really? Or would he just keep dragging himself down into a spiral that couldn’t end well for anybody?

They all say no. They all say that they would rather be themselves among their friends than actors and victims and monsters in their old lives. They can be themselves with their family, and despite how much they miss their old lives, they just simply _couldn’t_ before.

It wasn’t Sheryl’s fault and it wasn’t Kate’s fault-they just didn’t know how to handle it. It was unfamiliar and strange and that… that was okay, for awhile, but it couldn’t work forever. After Miranda was attacked, everything had changed for them. Suddenly they couldn’t stop the memories and the knowledge that they were _there._ Rita hadn’t had anybody to confide in for so long that the hurt and the shame built up under her skin until she couldn’t hold it anymore.

They could be themselves regardless of what those selves looked like or acted like or were with their family, their _new_ family, and that was enough.

And then Niles said he did it, he caused the accidents, he sabotaged the plane and he weakened the bridge and he authorized the experiments and he arranged the crash, and everything turns upside down and shatters all over again.

But this time they know they can glue the pieces back together, even if it takes a long, long time. They’ve done it before, and they’ll do it again. That’s how it goes when you’re a survivor. You keep rearranging your parts until they come out with a sum that you like. It works out.

* * *

Fireflies gleam in the trees and bushes around them, and Larry watches as one lands on the tip of his finger, perhaps mistaking him for a particularly large and human-shaped stalk of grass. The light on its end winks in and out, and Larry unconsciously glaces down at his chest to see the familiar blueish light shining in time with it.

“It’s a nice night,” Rita says quietly from beside him. He’s sitting directly on the ground, but she stole Cliff’s jacket and is sitting on it instead, trying not to touch the grass directly with anything but her shoes. “I miss when we did this more often.”

“Do you?” Larry asks. They used to do this when it was just the two of them. Every year they’d go out and watch the fireflies and look at the stars together and pretend to be normal until the silence got to be unbearable. “I don’t think I do.”

“I guess not. Maybe I just miss when things were quiet around here.” As if on cue, a loud clattering sound and a gasp of surprise rings out from behind them, and they look over their shoulders in unison to see Flit perched on Cliff’s shoulders, clinging to his head to keep aer balance. Vic comes running out of the house to try to support Cliff from his other side while Flit laughs loudly before vanishing from his shoulders and reappearing on the roof. Flex waves from the ground to get aer attention before giving aem a thumbs up.

Then Jane shouts something from the roof that sounds suspiciously like “I’m _fucking_ afraid of _fucking_ heights!” and Vic runs right back into the house, swearing under his breath and abandoning Cliff to lose his balance and fall over. Even though he could probably sit up on his own, he stays lying there until Flex walks over and pokes him a few times with his foot.

Rita bites her lower lip to stop herself from smiling. Sometimes it feels like she’s the only one in this group who _doesn’t_ have a thing for Mr. Mentallo (though, to be fair, Jane and the others in her… system (that’s the word, isn’t it?) probably don’t either). “Or maybe I don’t miss that very much either.”

The firefly has long since abandoned Larry’s finger and has gone to join its hundreds of potential mates in the grass, and he reaches over to squeeze her hand. “We’re going to be okay, you know,” he says. Inside his chest, the negative spirit crackles its agreement as it repositions itself to be just a bit more comfortable under Larry’s skin. “As long as we stick together, we’ll all be okay.”

Rita thinks about that dinner decades ago and how tense she and Larry had been around each other. Larry thinks about that dinner decades ago and how it had felt like the end of the world to tell someone one of his secrets. But it hadn’t been the end of the world, had it?

They’d all been okay.

**Author's Note:**

> If you are going to tell me that certain characters can't be trans because of their backstories, here is my explanation: Fuck Off, I Can Do Whatever I Want, And You Cannot Stop Me.
> 
> I'm augustheart on tumblr and this is somehow my 100th work on ao3.


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